Sepia
by palindromical
Summary: Oneshot. Mild slashy themes. Harry has a heart to heart with a complete stranger on a park bench in the middle of the night. The things one does when one is in love...


Disclaimer- This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

A/N- I'm not really happy with the style of this, but I liked the plot bunny that produced it. I was also completely at a loss as to what to title it, but what can you do? I may do some revising in the future, but probably not.

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Sepia

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'So you're Harry Potter, eh?'

'Yeah. Yeah I am.'

'I'm Sepia Daelahue. Pleased to make your acquaintance.' The short, frumpy-looking woman held out her hand, her many rings glittering in the light of the street lamps.

'Thanks,' Harry replied, and took the proffered hand hesitantly. Sepia grinned hugely at him.

'You know what's funny?' she said, chuckling slightly to herself.

'What?'

'Well, my husband -he's an auror, you might've heard of him- my husband and I have this ongoing joke where, whenever he floos me from work, he says, "Sepia, I do hope you're not having an affair behind my back." And I says back, "I'm sorry, Tilly (that's short for Timothy), I've been having hours of hot sex with Harry Potter." And we do this every time he floos me. Isn't that a laugh?'

'Erm... Sure,' Harry said uncomfortably, discreetly attempting to scoot away a few inches. There was an awkward silence in which Sepia beamed widely and scuffed her feet on the pavement.

'Huh,' she said suddenly, turning to blink quizzically at Harry.

'What?' Harry was a little put off by the woman's gaze. He was accustomed to hero worship, but this woman's open, all-seeing stare was something altogether unfamiliar.

'Well, it's just that you seem so much _older_ than I expected. All the times I've read about you, they've made you out to be this amazing child-hero, yet you look nearly 30.'

'26, actually.'

'Well, whatever the case, it's just surprising, is all.' There was another silence. Harry turned his attention to his fingernails, studying them intently as he fiddled with the strap of his bag. Suddenly, Sepia jumped to her feet, shaking her long, brightly coloured skirts almost violently. Then, as suddenly as she had risen, she plopped back down, significantly ruffled, but acting for all the world as if nothing had happened.

'Are you alright?' Harry asked, somewhat disturbed. 'I mean-'

'Oh, I'm fine!' Sepia reassured him. 'Sometimes you just get the urge to move a little, no? Wouldn't want to start collecting dust, would we?'

'No, I don't suppose you would.'

Sepia gave him another one of her toothy smiles. 'Well, why are you here?' she demanded, suddenly impatient. 'I mean, one hardly expects to find Harry Potter sitting on a park bench in the middle of the night. As pleased as I am to be able to tell my husband that I've met you, for real this time, it's just a little _strange_, don't you think?'

Harry thought for a moment. He had known this woman for all of ten minutes. What business did she have calling him strange? It was an awful lot like the pot calling the kettle black, Harry thought. But crazy as it might seem, or perhaps crazy as she might be, he really felt as if he could open up to Sepia.

'I'm in love,' he said finally. 'Either that or completely insane.'

Sepia gave him an incredulous look, her eyebrows raised so high that they disappeared into her full head of graying curls. 'Well,' she said sagely. 'Forgive me if I'm wrong, but isn't that more or less the same thing?'

Harry was surprised to find himself laughing. 'You know, I think you might actually be right,' he mused, still chuckling a little.

'But of course,' Sepia replied, completely seriously. 'But do enlighten me, who is it you've fallen in love with?'

'Oh, I- No one. An old classmate, you know.'

'Mmm hmm,' Sepia hummed knowingly.

'Well, I don't know. He- sh- _they_-' Sepia raised her eyebrows, and Harry sighed resignedly. '_He's_ leaving for France in the morning -something about a job opportunity, he never really explained- and we're in the middle of a sort of row at the moment. I just though I'd clear things up and say goodbye before he left. Though he wouldn't expect me to, of course. I don't suppose we're really even that close, even though we've-' Harry, who seemed to have forgotten Sepia's presence, looked up suddenly from twisting the strap on his duffle bag, blushing furiously.

'Mmm hmm,' Sepia intoned again. 'I see now.'

'I had kind of hoped that... Well, I don't know.'

'You hoped you could convince him to stay? Or that you could go with him? You oughtn't to feel ashamed about that, you know. Nor about your love for him.'

'I know. It's just that... This wasn't how things were supposed to work out.'

'Nothing is predestined, chickee, except death. And even then there's no knowing _how_ it'll happen. We shape our lives for ourselves, as we live them. Never forget that. You just have to believe that you have the ability to change things, and you can.' Sepia shot Harry yet another warm, broad smile, and Harry found that he was beginning to quite appreciate them.

'Listen to me,' Sepia laughed. 'Sybil would have a heart attack.'

'Sybil?'

'Yes, my twin sister, Sybil Trelawney. She's quite obsessed with the paranormal. Teaches Divination at Hogwarts, she does. She's quite the character.'

Harry blinked, somewhat amused, but not really surprised. Sepia did resemble Trelawney quite a bit, though she was rounder and her hair was more grey and flyaway. And, he supposed, she did have the same sort of foggy demeanor, though apparently she did not share her sister's affinity for Divination. One the whole, he found her far more agreeable than her sister, and resolved to try and forget their connection.

'Well then,' Sepia sighed, after a moment had passed. 'I ought to be getting home. You should be on your way as well. I see it's nearing daylight. Best of luck, chickee.' She stood up, arranging her skirts, and made to leave.

Harry rose too, slinging his bag over his shoulder, and started to walk away. Before he got far, however, he stopped and turned back. 'Thanks,' he called. 'Thanks a lot.' But the street corner was empty and Sepia was nowhere in sight.

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End file.
